In the Tent
by Carmen Willow
Summary: What gets said between Alistair and the Warden during those long nights in the Tent?  This is one conversation they may have shared.


In the Tent

Elizabeth awoke to the snap of a log on the fire outside. She sat up on one elbow and listened to determine if the sound meant anything more than the fact that the fire was burning. The camp was quiet. Clearly everyone had long since gone to sleep. Mack, her mabari lay across the doorway to the tent. Even he slept deeply. All was well.

Elizabeth turned her attention to the angular cut of Alistair's shoulder as he lay on his side. Gently she ran her hand over his skin. She snuggled close into his back, pressing her own body against his. She drew a deep breath to take in the heady scent of his healthy manhood. He murmured softly and pressed backward against her, still asleep. She inhaled again…but tensed.

Underneath his own good scent was the faint, persistent stench of the taint. The taint, that smelled of death and rot and corruption. It was almost indiscernible, but it was there. And it grew a little more prevalent with each day that passed.

She, too, must also carry the stench of corruption. The thought made her sick inside. "No babies for us," she thought to herself sadly. She and Alistair were young and healthy now, but time would pass and the taint would claim them both. A lump formed in her throat. She could stand it for herself. Duty demanded that she do so. But to think of Alistair….twisted and maimed by this infernal disease…..

"What is it Love?" Elizabeth returned from the dark place in her head to find that Alistair had awakened and was watching her. "Are you worried about the Landsmeet?" he asked.

Elizabeth started to speak her mind and then decided her fears were better left for another time. She pushed her heavy hair out of her face and shrugged her shoulders. "I know what Arl Eamon wants, and I know what Loghain would have...but I do not care for them. Alistair, what do _you_ desire?"

Alistair laughed, "A good meal, a soft bed…._this_…" he pinched her rump gently, "and a chance to slay the Archdemon." He continued. "I'm a simple man, Liza."

"Liar." Elizabeth replied. "You like others to think you simple…"

Alistair grinned crookedly, "Damn, she sees right through me."

"Alistair, be serious for a moment." Elizabeth replied.

Alistair lost the snarky smile. "Elizabeth, until the Grey Wardens, I felt as though I belonged to no one and had no home. I was driven out of Redcliffe by the Arl's wife, and forced into the Chantry. "His brows knit together over his fine hazel eyes. "I suppose I must be grateful for the education I received from the Templars, but it was a barren road that I was made to walk. Alistair shrugged. "Then Duncan came, and I became a Grey Warden. Suddenly, I had home, family and…a father of sorts who truly seemed to care for me."

His eyes caught hers. "Elizabeth, I don't want to be king. _I don't want to be king!_" He said again with emphasis. "I don't want the politics, the power, none of it." He said firmly. "Eamon dreams of a Therin line that will continue for generations. But that dream died with my brother. I am merely the bastard son of a man long dead." His expression grew lighter and he said offhand, "Ferelden will survive without me as its ruler. Kings are never as important as they think themselves to be."

"But Alistair, think of the good you could d…." Elizabeth started to say. Alistair shushed her by stroking her cheek.

"Speaks Elizabeth Cousland, good noble daughter, raised in the way of power and nobility. Duty, duty, duty!" He teased. "I can see how you would think my duty was to Ferelden. But you are wrong, Liza." Alistair nodded his head as if to confirm his inner thoughts. "My duty….nay, my Calling, is to destroy the Archdemon. As is yours. We will do what we must to secure the army of Ferelden for this cause. In war, Victory. In peace, Vigilance. In death, Sacrifice." He looked at her once more. "That is the oath we swore, beloved. It is the one we must uphold."

"And what of Loghain?" She asked him.

Alistair's face became granite. His jaw tightened, and he flexed his hands as he sometimes did before taking up his sword and shield. In a cold, murderous tone he said, quietly. "Oh, he is a dead man. Make no mistake of it."

Then he softened and turned to her, taking her in his arms. "Come here, woman." He kissed and caressed her thoroughly, making it hard for Elizabeth to catch her breath. He lowered his mouth to hers and tasted. Again, he kissed her and then whispered. "You shouldn't worry so, Liza. The taint will not claim us for some years yet."

Elizabeth stiffened. "How…..how?"

"How did I know that you were troubled?' Alistair buried his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder. "Because I know _you_, sweeting. " He gently grazed her skin with his teeth. "And intend to know you more." And then he did.


End file.
